Friday, October 21, 2011

-Why is it easier to concentrate in a loud coffee shop than an almost-quiet library where someone probably seated quite far away is very faintly whistling? (I'm thinking spousal library privileges do not extend to shushing. But ask me again in an hour.) But I'm not entirely sure what conditions are best for 1820s conversionist literature. I wish the narrator would stop describing this "Esther" as "l'intéressante Juive" when there is truly nothing interesting about her. She's young, pretty, and has converted to Catholicism after having the profound thought that, if the king and the majority of the French people are Catholic, gosh darn it Christianity must be better than Judaism. The only interesting thing about her is that she's not named "Rachel" or "Rebecca." Otherwise, no. I'm now reading more about the "toilettes" of different women. Life must have been complicated before Sephora. If Esther and Edouard the ex-cad aristocrat don't get together soon, and I've been plodding through this for nothing, I will not be pleased.

UPDATE

Well, one interesting thing is that her conversion seems to be taking place at the Paris church in whose place I got engaged. I wonder if Poilane was around in those days...

-"You can never go wrong with recipe that involves a stick of butter and a cup of sugar simmering and baking over the course of an hour. That is just a fundamental principle of LIFE!" - Kei, telling it like it is. My recent variants of that - lemon pound cake, brownies, cranberry muffins - have left zilch to be desired.

-Car-sharing, nice idea, frustrating concept. (No, I still can't drive, but luckily they teach driving in Belgium.) You have this car for a set number of hours, some of which of course involve taking little Bisou to the vet, then have to find a way to use the remaining time - all of it, but not a minute more - to the fullest. No driving around to get to know Central NJ. No trying that ravioli place technically within the town's borders but in the opposite direction of Practical. 17 boxes of DeCecco, some massive amount of dishwasher detergent, etc., later, and we still had just exactly enough time left for Whole Foods, in another of Route 1's infinite strips-of-strip-mawl, which, sorry Wegman's, has a proper butcher area. (And sorry Whole Foods, but you are dreary. And your strip mall has nothing else.) Enough to get meat at Whole Foods, but not enough to actually get the stuff out of the car in time to return it. We had to first put everything into the driveway. But it went beautifully. Not a moment of car-time was wasted.